


Solace for the Lovelorn

by ThornyHedge, Universal_Acid



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornyHedge/pseuds/ThornyHedge, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Universal_Acid/pseuds/Universal_Acid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the slaying of Smaug, Lake-town burns in ruins and the survivors gather on a distant shoreline. Fili and Bard, both reeling from loss, find solace in one another's arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hobbit Kink Meme. The prompt is [here.](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/9471.html?thread=20718591#t20718591)
> 
> Fili written by ThornyHedge  
> Bard written by Universal-Acid

Bard was shivering when he awoke on the snowy shores of the Long Lake. The first sensation that broke through the shivering cold was the sight of golden hair, tumbling in waves over the shoulders of the one who now helped him. The hands that helped him now to sit up were gentle, and they stripped off his ice-soaked layers and wrapping his trembling body in damp but thankfully warm furs.

"Ditte..." he murmured, before remembering she was dead.

"You will be all right." The voice was too low to belong to her, and huskier in timbre. "The dragon is dead. We are safe, Bard."

Confused, Bard forced his eyes open and the face of the one who helped him came into focus. He recognized the face--it was a man, bearded, with worry writ in his blue eyes. No, not a man. A dwarf. Suddenly the memories of recent events came rushing back to him, and he recalled this one, whose name he did not know, and his urging to leave Lake-town before the coming of Smaug.

He shot upright and hurriedly looked past the dwarf, scrambling to his feet. "Where are my children?"

"They are safe, there!" The dwarf fell back on his heels and pointed away up the hillside, toward a small group of people who now rushed towards the bank. Among them were his three children, the remaining dwarves who had sought refuge in his house, and an elvish warrior whom he had never seen before.

"Da!" Tilda raced to Bard's side and flung her arms around his neck. “Oh, you’re all right!”

"We were so worried," Sigrid said as she collapsed beside Bard.

Overcome with relief, he pulled both his daughters into an embrace. Tears of joy began to stream out of his eyes as he fell back against the bank, clutching both daughters to him. 

"You are safe," he whispered, kissing Tilda's cold, sweat-soaked brow. He pulled back then, and gently grabbed Sigrid by the shoulders. "Your brother?"

"I'm here, Da." Bain was standing a few paces away, leaning against the silver-haired dwarf, visibly in pain.

"You're hurt." Bard scrambled to his feet and rushed towards his son. Upon Bain's chest, beneath many blankets, were the burned tatters of his clothing over reddened skin.

Bain shook his head. " 'Tis not bad," he said. "The clothes caught fire, but I fell into the lake. I’m all right."

"How did the rest of you escape?" 

"We took a boat," Sigrid said. She gestured to the yellow-haired dwarf, who still sat quietly upon his knees, fingers clutching Bard's icy overcoat. "Fili helped us get out of the house before everything burned."

"You?" Bard turned to the dwarf, who dropped his eyes to the coat before giving a brief nod of acknowledgment. "You saved my family. I can never thank you enough, nor repay you, for what you have done."

“There’s no need to for that,” Fili smiled softly, his own eyes searching for his injured brother. “You took us in to help Kili when no one else would. If anything, you can consider us even. There now” -- he put a steadying hand on Bard’s shoulder as he swooned a bit. “You took a bit of a knock. You should rest. And you, too,” he said to Bain, reaching for the boy’s hand. “Come here and sit with your father. Let our physician have a look at you both.”

"I've just the thing for burns, laddie," Oin assured him, and Fili raised his eyes to tentatively lock with Bard's.

"Oin's very good with children," Fili assured him.

"I trust his hands must be very good at healing," Bard said, glancing from Fili, whose steadying hands kept him from falling back against the bank, to Oin, who had pulled a small jar of ointment from a pocket in his soggy coat and was now applying the salve to the burns in Bain's chest. He looked then at the dark-haired young dwarf named Kili, still some paces away. The last Bard had last seen him, the young dwarf had been so stricken by the foul orcish poison that all he could do was scream in agony as his comrades tried to heal him. But now, Kili was standing with the aid of the elvish woman, leaning against her. He looked tired, but alive, and bore a strange, serene smile upon his near-beardless face. 

Bard turned to Oin in awe. "You saved him."

"What's that?" Oin craned his neck to bring his ear closer to Bard, and he raised his bushy eyebrows once he realized what Bard had said. "Me? Oh, no. The elf saved our Kili."

Kili's smile broadened as he looked almost dreamily up at the elf in what immediately struck Bard as nothing short of amor. The elf's eyes met Bard's for a moment before she averted her gaze, and hurriedly, she helped Kili to sit upon the bank. Bard had never been good at reading elvish emotions, but she was oddly expressive for one of her kind, and in her face, he could see that the dwarvish lad's infatuation had been unexpected, though perhaps not unwelcome.

Bard felt Fili stiffen behind him. 

“Given time, and without that orc ambush, Oin would have healed up my brother just fine,” Fili said, evenly. His blue eyes abandoned Kili and the elf woman, and he quickly scanned their surroundings, blinking furiously to stem his welling emotions. 

"I'm no elf," Oin went on, wholly focused on treating Bain's burns and oblivious to what was going on around him, "but this concoction will soothe the skin and prevent the burn from blistering. Ye can be grateful, laddie," he said with a grin. "Not many survive the fires of a dragon."

"And you girls," Bard said, "You are unhurt?"

"Yes, Da," Tilda said.

“Bard,” Fili said, “you must know this area better than anyone. Is there someplace we can seek shelter? You and your son, my brother, and the other wounded…” appearing only momentarily harried, Fili took a moment to push away the tendrils of hair stuck to his face. “There are many who need to rest. And the air is bitter cold. We should get under cover should the orcs return.”

“He’s right,” Bofur said as he approached, a mattock hoisted in his hands. “We need to find someplace out of this chill, mister bowman. D’you have any ideas?”

Bard took a moment to take in their surroundings. The shores of the Long Lake were lined with pine forests and largely devoid of human settlement, but near the causeway leading to Lake-town, which now had been reduced to little more than a massive ember glowing upon the waters, there was a gatehouse, and a trading post. They were old buildings, but they were shelter, and Bard imagined that if there was refuge to be found, it would be there.

“That way.” He pointed northwards along the bank. "About half a mile from here." 

“Do you feel up to the trek?” Fili’s breath was warm on Bard’s forehead as he studied the small knot there. “We should get the children indoors. I can support you as you walk.”

"It's a short distance, and I'm quite well," Bard said, pushing himself to his feet. He was moved by the dwarf's kindness, but did not take the outstretched hand. "Just... cold. We should go."

“Very well then,” Fili turned to gather the others. “Bard knows where we might be able to find shelter,” he told them, approaching Kili and Tauriel. “He’ll lead us there if you all feel well enough to travel. Nadadel? Can you make it a half mile?”

"Of course," Kili said, not taking his eyes from his elvish paramour. "I feel as though I could run across the starlit sky."

"Then let us go." Bard shook off the last of the cold and set a brisk pace toward the outposts.

Fili let out a barely suppressed huff of indignation and scooped up their meager belongings and the one weapon he was able to procure in Lake-town--a pike. He took up a defensive position in the rear of the party as they moved to follow Bard. Kili stuck close to Tauriel’s side and as they traveled and the tiny knot that had formed in Fili’s stomach tightened until he felt he could scarcely breathe.

 _Do you think she could have loved me?_ Kili had asked her, obviously weak from the healing, but lucid enough. 

_I have lost him,_ Fili lamented. The tear that escaped his eye was cold on his cheek.

They made good time as they moved towards the outposts, and all the while, Bard kept turning back to check on his children. Most of his concern was for Bain, but the lad was as strong and full of good-natured determination as his mother had been, and the few times their eyes met, Bain gave him little more than a brief smile as if to say, _Everything will be all right._

Bard could not return his son's sentiment, for the knowledge of what had happened in Lake-town no less than a few hours before weighed heavily upon his mind. The dragon's fire had destroyed everything, and now an already indigent people were desolate, with naught but the clothing upon their backs and the scant hope that the dwarvish king would keep his word about sharing in the wealth of Erebor. That was, if Thorin Oakenshield was even alive. So many people had perished, all because of that dwarf's stubborn adherence to his heritage and his greed. And with Smaug freed from the mountain, it only made sense that Thorin and his company, all but these four, had died in the dragon’s fire. It was a bitter and sobering thought, and one that Bard tried not to think on now. For the time being, the important thing was getting his family to safety, and with them, the dwarves who had helped them reach the lake shore. Only once his children were safe could he dare to think on what to do next.

He drew his arm around Tilda as he walked and glanced back again at Sigrid, who was beside her brother, and the two were quiet and diligent as they followed him where he led. As he looked back, he caught Fili's eye. There were so many questions Bard had for him, for he seemed as if he were the leader of this small band, but in seeing the look on Fili's face, he thought he saw something painfully sad in the young dwarf's eyes, and he had the sinking realization of what the dragon's release probably meant for him, and for his kin.

For a brief moment, Fili caught Bard’s eye, and quickly they both looked away. They were exhausted, the lot of them, but none would openly admit it. Fili himself had been awake for days, either running from danger or sitting by his brother’s sickbed, and in the exhaustion, Fili’s emotions were raw and difficult to manage, and he could not help but let his thoughts drift toward all that had been lost. 

He ached in his body and in his heart. His company had caused this. Despite all the warnings they’d been given along the way, Fili never believed them. He always thought Thorin was in the right, and that somehow, magically, things would all work out in their favor. He felt that Kili would always adore him, always put him first, as Fili did. Never wavering, never straying.

He’d been so wrong about everything. 

Bard could see on Fili's face that the burden he bore was heavy, and he turned his eyes forward, sparing the lad--if he could even be called such, for he might have been twice Bard's age--the indignity of being watched in his turmoil. In silence, Bard trudged onward, pushing all thought but that of their destination from his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

It was not long before they neared the outpost, and here, they began to see other survivors. So few had made it out of Lake-town, and most were in some state of injury. Quickly, Bard urged his children to take up shelter in the run down gatehouse while he set to work attending to the remaining residents of Lake-town, with help from his daughters and the uninjured dwarves. Over the course of what seemed like hours, he and Fili did what they could to direct the other survivors into groups depending on the severity of their wounds. Those whose injuries were the worst were placed in the care of Oin and Tauriel, while Bofur and Sigrid found places for the uninjured in the gatehouse. By the time they were finished, dawn had broken over the peak of the Lonely Mountain, and at last, Bard collapsed near the hearth, grateful to be alive.

At last, when everyone had settled down to some semblance of rest, Fili felt that he too could relax a bit. Kili had fallen asleep shortly after they’d arrived, and after Tauriel had tended to the worst of the injured, she stayed at Kili’s side like a sentinel. Did elves even sleep? Fili had yet to discover that.

 _Go away,_ he willed her silently. _Go home, back to the Elvenking’s son, for it’s obvious he pines for you._ But she did not, of course. She stayed by Kili while he slept, watching over him, singing something soft in that lilting Elvish language that was all but unintelligible to Fili. 

Unhappily, Fili sighed, and sank down next to a wall, away from the rest of them, pike inches from his hand should he need it. He lay his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. 

Sleep would not come. He left the post quietly and walked to the water’s edge. There, he slipped out of his outer layer of clothing and scrubbed his face and hands, shivering slightly at the coldness of the ice water. If only he could wash away the mistakes of the past few days. If only they could go back to Beorn’s home and choose another path. If only, if only. But the past was done, and the future uncertain, and there was no changing what had happened. All that Fili could do now was to look towards the life that lay ahead of him, and wonder if, with the coming of a new day, he would find some hope again.

Across the field, in the gatehouse, Bard similarly found himself unable to bring himself to sleep. His children were safe, and the dragon was dead, but it all happened so quickly that he had not even had time to think on what to do next, nor find some semblance of rest in the aftermath of the destruction. 

It was times like these -- the hard times, the exhausted times -- that he most missed Ditte. She had been more clever than him by half, and twice as hopeful that one day, things would get better for the poor, hungry people of Lake-town. But these past years without her had been hard, and without her strength for politics and sharp wit, Bard had fallen out of favor with the Master of Lake-town. He wondered how different things might have been if she had been alive still, if perhaps she could have convinced the dwarves to stay away from that mountain where Bard had failed so miserably. His failures now seemed to join her ghost in haunting him, leaving him unable to find any sleep despite how much he needed it. 

Wearily, he stood and threw another log on the fire, and picked up the crate to fetch more wood, mostly just looking for an excuse to get up and do something, anything, to take his mind off his worry. He quietly made his way out of the gatehouse towards the woods, but stopped at the sight of a lone figure standing at water's edge, looking out upon the faint glow coming from the ruin of Lake-town.

"You should get some rest," he said to Fili, approaching and stopping some paces away. "This night has been unkind to all of us."

“I cannot possibly sleep,” Fili said, his voice hoarse with what Bard realized was sadness. When he caught a glimpse of Fili’s face, he saw the tears, glowing faintly with the color of the distant fire. “Not when my coming here, when _our_ coming here has sentenced so many to death.”

"Is that why you weep?" Bard approached and joined Fili by the edge of the lake, and he wondered why he could not bring himself to feel the grief that was so plainly written upon Fili's features. It was too soon, perhaps. The weight of the destruction had yet to fully hit him. "You have shown heroism tonight, and should not bear the guilt for what has happened here. It is not you who is to blame for this destruction."

“Not directly. No, of course not.” Fili watched as the town continued to burn, little more than orange embers in the distance. “But I am complicit. I am next in line to be king of the dwarves.” Saying it out loud, it seemed impossible to believe as true. Saying the words and taking them truly to heart was akin to putting on an impossibly heavy mantle that dragged him down in body and spirit. “What king makes his kingdom on the death of so many?”

“Many kings earn their thrones through war or conquest,” Bard said, voice low. “This is not the same. This was” -- _the result of a terrible choice on Thorin’s part,_ he thought but left unsaid -- “a disastrous accident. It was not dwarvish warriors who laid Lake-town to waste. It was a dragon. You cannot bear Smaug’s guilt.”

Fili sighed, knowing Bard’s words to be true. Still, he could not help feeling responsible in some way for the destruction of Lake-town and its people. 

He moved to a fallen log and sat up on it, gesturing for Bard to join him. “Tell me,” he asked the bowman, hoping to change the subject, “who is Ditte? You asked for Ditte when you awoke, disoriented. Was she your wife?”

"She was," Bard said, brushing off the dusting of snow that covered the log before taking up a seat beside Fili. "I was confused. She had yellow hair, and at first, I thought..." He trailed off and looked upon Fili now, who with his beard and his handsome, masculine features, only bore a resemblance to Ditte in the color of his hair, and in the vibrant blue color and kindly look of his eyes. "No, she is dead. Three years, now."

“Of course,” Fili nodded, understanding. “My hair made you think of her. I’m so very sorry for your loss. Caring for three children alone must have been quite a challenge for you. You are to be commended for that. They are quite a delight, the three of them, and fighters. You raised them well.”

Bard was moved by the compliment. "Thanks to you, I still have them. The bravery you showed in saving my children is of the highest quality, and your people will be well-served by having you as their leader."

“You saved the town, what was left of it -- saved us _all_ \-- by killing that dragon,” Fili reminded him. “No one but you could have possibly done that. It was your destiny, Bard. A fate as pre-ordained as my own.” A yawn split his face. “I’m so tired,” he admitted, “and yet…”

"You can find no rest," Bard finished. "Something weighs upon you, Fili. Forgive me, but... you seem far too young to carry the burden of grief."

“Grief knows no age limit.” Fili stared at the snowy ground beneath his boots. “You should know that better than anyone.”

"You are right," Bard admitted. "None will be spared grief after what has happened here. Forgive me if I seemed to pry."

“No, no,” Fili smiled softly, “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to appear rude. You’re very perceptive. I do grieve, but my loss seems frivolous compared to the carnage we witnessed tonight.”

"Your loss cannot be frivolous if it has affected you so," Bard said. "You spoke of fate -- tell me, what fate would see your life spared and yet leave you in such a state of despondency?"

Fili wasn't sure how to answer, so he didn't, but instead turned to look to the building behind him, as if he could see through the wall and check up on his sleeping brother. "Have you ever pinned your hopes so tightly to something that instead of a hope, to you it was a surety?" he asked at length. "That is what I have done. I have recently been proven that nothing is so sure."

"Yes," Bard said, in a quiet voice. "Once, I had hope that I thought never to lose, and once, hopelessness that I held to be just as certain. Both times, that sense of certainty was shattered. I was certain that Ditte and I would grow old together, and she perished. I was also certain that the prophecy about your king's return to Erebor spelled doom for my people... my children. That is almost worse to bear, certainty in hopelessness. But we have survived. My children have survived, thanks to you. And what few of us there are will continue. In that, my fears have been proven wrong. I cannot believe in certainty after all I have seen and lived through."

Fili listened quietly, not entirely sure what to say. Some of what Bard now said resonated in him. But today, for the first time, despite having killed many an orc and goblin on his journey, he had witnessed the senseless, terrible deaths of innocent people. That made it hard now to share in Bard’s hope for the future. 

"I know now that I have been very sheltered from danger,” he said. “Whether I'm better for that or not remains to be seen. I shall not forget what I have seen today. When I am king, I shall seek to do everything in my power to see that those who survived this attack are well taken care of." He put his own hand over Bard's for emphasis. "And I will never let my own concerns or vendettas come before those I have been privileged to lead." 

Bard watched Fili for a long moment, having no more expected his words than the sudden feel of the hand upon his own. He dropped his eyes to where Fili's calloused fingers rested upon his skin. The touch, like the slow revelation of Fili’s goodness, was not unwelcome. He made no move to take his hand away.

"I believe you would be a good king," Bard said at last.

"'If fate is kind, I will have my chance," Fili smiled sadly, "just as you will have yours. Things are expected of you and me--things above that expected of most. It's so daunting. Are you afraid? I am often so afraid." Fili's eyes again studied the burning remains of Lake-town. 

"I have never been more afraid than when I fired that black arrow,” Bard said, “not knowing if it would find its mark. Can you imagine it, knowing that the fate of your entire people rest upon the stroke of your weapon?" 

He closed his eyes and revisited the recent memory, the prayer to the Valar that he had uttered as he had let loose the fateful shot, and the overwhelming joy he had felt as the black arrow had embedded itself in Smaug's belly, sending the beast plummeting into the fiery ruins of Lake-town. His lips, so unaccustomed to smiling after all these hard years, now lifted slightly as he relived the sense of relief, brief as it had been before he had had to swim for his life across the icy lake. Now, hours later, as he sat beside the lake with his new-found friend, the relief returned, and he was no longer afraid. 

"I do not fear for the future," he said, "not in this moment, for we are alive, and where there is life, there is hope. Though fear will find me again, I imagine, and soon, I am content enough for now." He looked at Fili, taking in the sadness in the deep blue eyes that seemed to lend an ageless wisdom to the young dwarf that surpassed both his years and his kind. "I sense, however, that you are not. What troubles you, my friend? Do you... fear that Smaug has killed your company? Your king, Thorin... your father?"

"Thorin is not my father,” Fili explained. “My father died when I was very small. Thorin is my mother's brother. He raised me -- raised _us._ He has made sure I know everything there is to know about being a Dwarf, and about being a leader. And yet, I'm sure you've figured out simply by speaking to him, he can be gruff and short-tempered, especially now that he is so close to regaining his kingdom. He has never made time to marry or have children." 

"I see." Bard sighed, feeling an ache inside his chest from the three-year-old wound that had never fully healed, and he pressed his free hand to his sternum to soften the pain. "To be a husband and a father is the greatest joy a man can feel. It saddens me in some ways that Thorin, who is old enough to remember Erebor and Dale in their days of glory, should have never known such happiness in all his long years."

"Perhaps he was the wise one." Fili muttered. He turned to Bard, pushing down his pain. "If one does not give his heart away, it cannot be broken, can it?”

“You must give your heart away if you are to love,” Bard said. “But there is truth to what you say. When your beloved dies, a piece of you dies with her.” 

“I'm sorry for what you have lost,” Fili said after a long, quiet moment. 

"I miss her," Bard said, dropping his voice to little more than a whisper. "Ditte was strong, and smart, and always calm, even in the face of adversity. She would have done anything to protect our children. In some ways, I see many of the same traits in you. Perhaps that is why I find myself able to speak of her to you. I have not... spoken of her since she died. Not even her name. But you remind me of her. Hair, eyes... disposition." When Fili was silent, Bard realized how his words could be interpreted, and he averted his eyes and quickly added, "I know it sounds strange. Perhaps I should not have said that."

Fili blinked and a tear rolled from each of his eyes. He didn’t swipe them away. “That is the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me,” he admitted, and he felt the tight fist that his heart had become that day begin to loosen. Fili took the opportunity to look, and truly see, Bard. He was handsome, angular, dark, tall, and so…. _damaged._ “How unfortunate for us that neither of us is with the one he would love.” 

"You have indeed lost someone," Bard deduced. He turned his hand over so that their two palms were pressed together, and he intertwined his fingers with Fili’s. "Such grief is not trivial."

“It cuts like a dagger to my heart,” Fili confessed, although he had no idea why he was pouring his deepest feelings out to this man he’d just met two days prior. Saying the words, he realized, only unleashed a flood of tears he’d been holding back. “I’m--I’m so sorry,” he said as he wiped furiously at his face. “This is most unbecoming behavior.”

"No," Bard said, gently. Without thinking, he raised a hand to brush away the tears that had trailed their way down Fili's cheeks. He did not know what moved him to leave his fingers lingering upon Fili's skin, nor trace the tip of his thumb against the golden hair upon Fili's face, almost intimately. It _was_ intimate, he realized, and he wondered what it was that had driven him to touch Fili like this, as one would touch a lover. Loneliness, perhaps. Or sympathy, for he knew that Fili's wounds, whatever their source, went deep. "Even kings may weep in despair. I only wish there were something I could say, or do, to ease your suffering. It does me harm to see good people in pain."

Fili turned his head into the warmth of Bard’s palm, so _big_ against his cheek. “You’re kind, bowman,” he whispered. “Just as I knew you would be. I wasn’t sure at first, but when you let us back into your house to care for my brother, I knew.”

Bard let his eyes linger on Fili, searching his kind face and finding compassion there. The naked honesty with which Fili now shared his thoughts began to rekindle an old feeling in the center of his chest, a light and tremulous flutter that he had not felt in years. And how _long_ those years had seemed, without that feeling. Why he felt it now, he did not know, and he found it oddly frightening that it had taken a young dwarf--and a male, at that--to give life to that that blissful, slightly anxious emotion that he had lost with Ditte's death.

 _But why should I not feel this way,_ he wondered. _She is dead, and I have suffered for the need of intimacy, and closeness. But for him?_ The rational side of his mind did not see the sense in it, but try as he might to suppress the emotions that now bubbled up inside him, he could not deny that he wanted more than Fili's kind words, or his friendship. And that, Bard imagined, Fili would not be prepared to give.

"Fili..." Bard withdrew his hand and dropped his eyes to the snowy ground. "I must confess to you, my heart is acting strangely. Everything has changed, and so quickly, and my thoughts are still reeling from the destruction of Lake-town... my home. I have lost everything but my children, and yet this is the first time in years that I have felt so alive. It is you who makes me feel this way. I do not know why I..." He felt himself blush despite the cold," ... yearn for you. Please forgive me for saying this. But I thought it important to be honest with you before making a fool of myself."

“You have your children, still. You have _everything._ Yet, naturally, you are lonely,” Fili pointed out. “It was evident when I first met you and you told us about your wife. I too, pine, although I do not pretend to compare my pain to yours. We both yearn and yet are unfulfilled. Like minds, they tend to be drawn to one another, isn’t that so? It’s not supposed to make sense, is it?”

"Nothing makes sense anymore." Bard let his eyes drift back to the lake, to the smoldering ruin upon its surface, and the mountain that loomed above, cast like a dark shadow upon the morning sky. "'Like minds', you say. Then you must also be lonely, despite having every promise for a bright future. I would not wish you to be lonely for a lifetime." 

“A bright future perhaps. That remains to be seen,” Fili bit his lip. “Yet I am wasting my present in preparing for it. And apparently wasting it dreaming of love not meant to be,” he muttered bitterly.

"The elf maid? But no," Bard said quickly as Fili gave him an incredulous look. "It is another. One of your company, perhaps? One who... may have been lost upon the mountain? Oh, I am so sorry."

“It’s not something I should speak of. Not now. Not with so much tragedy surrounding us,” Fili’s eyes scanned the horizon, even now fearing the dragon, or the orcs, would return. “It would be prudent to look after these people who have been put in our charge -- to care for them, and for ourselves.”

For a moment, Bard was speechless. Fili's words had been like an unexpected slap to the face that brought him swiftly back to reality. He suddenly remembered where they were, and that their duties lay in caring for those who had been less fortunate after the fire than either of them had been.

"You're absolutely right. Forgive my intrusiveness.” Abruptly, Bard got to his feet and turned to leave. _And just what did you think would come of this, fool?_ he berated himself, and he said without looking back, "I should see to the injured."

As he began to walk away, he hung his head in humiliation, once again feeling certain in the unshakeable nature of hopelessness.

“Wait! Bard, wait!” 

Fili hopped up onto the log for the added height and sprinted along it. When the bowman paused and turned, Fili grabbed him by the bowstrap across his chest and pulled Bard down for a hasty kiss, which quickly escalated to one more passionate.

Bard gave a muffled noise of surprise and nearly lost his footing at the unexpected kiss. But at the feel of the soft lips pressed hard against his own, he found himself swept up in the embrace, and he grabbed hold of Fili's collar and opened his mouth, letting Fili inside. The kiss was hard and almost desperate, but it was so _good,_ to be touched like this, and he hadn't known just how deeply he had needed the affection until this very moment.

He let his hand rise to gently grab hold of Fili's jaw, fingers brushing against the furred skin and braided mustache. The feeling beneath his fingertips was strange, but not unpleasant, and he marveled for a moment in the coarseness, the ruggedness, juxtaposed against the frigid, sensitive tears that had crystallized upon Fili's skin. Bard moved his mouth over the tears and kissed the ice away, hoping that his touch could take away Fili's pain.


	3. Chapter 3

When at last Bard drew back, he was panting slightly. The rush of excitement had worked its way down his body to leave him yearning for more. He had to force himself to hold back, to open his eyes and pull away just enough to touch his forehead to Fili's, still close and still intimate, but more chaste. More manageable.

"I don't understand," he said, breathless. "I thought you..." _loved another._ "What is it that you want from me?"

“I suppose, bowman,” Fili drew one kiss-fattened lip into his mouth, “I want what you want. Comfort, release, and the knowledge that--at least for a short time--I am not alone. Is that what you seek?” Fili’s cerulean eyes searched Bard’s face, as if trying to ferret out a lie. “I will allow you to treat me as you would your lady, if that is what concerns you.”

"That does not concern me." Bard had been with another man before, but that was years ago, when he had been younger, and wilder. Before Ditte. "No, I think that would only reopen that wound, to treat you as if you were her. If we do this, it is to be you and me, for we seek the same thing. Comfort..." He slipped his hand down Fili's neck and worked his fingers under the collar of the oversized, frayed coat from his own wardrobe. Then his hand moved lower still until his fingers brushed against the growing bulge in Fili's trousers. "Release."

Fili gasped and arched into Bard’s touch. “It’s been far too long, Bard, since I have been touched _there._ ” He returned the gesture. “And you?”

"Years," Bard confessed, pressing his stiffening groin into Fili's palm. He glanced quickly around him, at the empty clearing near the edge of the lake and the gatehouse, looking for a place with some semblance of privacy. His eyes fell upon the old outpost tower, and he turned back to Fili, eyebrows raised. "Come with me."

He took up Fili's hand and swiftly they made their way towards the outpost. The tower was an old, run-down wooden structure on stilts, and its walls were too thin to offer much protection from the cold. That only promised that the building would be empty. 

When Bard reached the base of the tower, he reached up and grabbed hold of the bottom rung of a ladder that hung from the ceiling. He gave a sharp tug and the ladder gave way, falling into place against one of the stilts. He shook the ladder to ensure that it was secure, and before making his way up, he leaned down to press a brief kiss to Fili's lips. Then he quickly began to climb.

Indeed, the tower proved to be a barren, little-used structure. Inside, Bard found an empty weapons rack, and an old, long-unused desk bearing a broken oil lamp and a few rotten sheaves of paper. Once inside, Bard poked his head through the trapdoor in the floor and beckoned for Fili to join him. 

On the ground, Fili's quick smile brightened up his face for just a moment before he turned his attention to the ladder and joined Bard in the tower. Once they were both inside, Bard kicked the trap door closed and grabbed Fili roughly by the collar and pressed an eager kiss to his lips.

When Fili pulled away, breathless, a few moments later, he remarked, “I daresay no one will find us up here. It’s desolate and forsaken. Not to mention rather chilly.” He unhooked his belt and it fell to the wooden floor with a jangle as he beckoned to Bard, enticing him to move closer.

"That was the idea," Bard said. "We should be quiet, though," he said between kisses, "lest we alert the others to our presence."

Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees, shortening the difference in height as he closed the distance between their bodies. As he kissed Fili's cheek, the young dwarf arched his neck, obliging Bard to move his lips downward, pressing kisses into the warm skin of his throat. Bard’s mouth found the strong, corded muscles of Fili's shoulder, and as he pulled back on the fabric of Fili's tunic, exposing the skin to the frigid air, he flicked his tongue over the flushed skin before nipping gently at Fili's collarbone. His second hand slid around Fili's waist, pulling him closer until Bard's now fully aroused cock was pressed against the hard bulge in Fili's trousers.

Bard felt _big_ down there, Fili noted. He’d never seen a man’s knob before, but by the feel, he was going to be impressed and quite shown up by it. He was wondering how it might feel to have something so big, warm and throbbing in his own mouth when Bard gave one of his braids a gentle tug, bringing him back to the present.

“I was thinking about tasting you,” Fili explained to the bowman.

Bard nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly. Quickly, he pulled back the layers of his clothing to get at the drawstring on his trousers. He was fully aroused and aching with need, and could feel every brush of his trembling fingers through the fabric as he fumbled to undo his laces. The promise of having that soft, wet mouth upon him was distracting, and he had to remind himself to slow down, to savor this intimacy, this closeness. 

"How nervous I must seem to you," he said, finally managing to undo the knot in the drawstring. 

With a sigh of pleasure, he slid his hand into his trousers and pulled himself free. The cold air was sharp upon his sensitive flesh, but before the heat and arousal could be stolen by the frigid air, Fili immediately dropped to his knees and pressed his mouth to Bard's cock, parting his lips and taking him up into his luscious warmth.

“Not nervous,” Fili pulled away with a surprised gasp, tasting Bard’s essence on his tongue--tinged with adrenaline, sweat, and fear, it was a heady combination. “Eager. As am I, Bard. You have forgotten how it feels to be wanted. Let me remind you.” He smiled up at him in the dim light and drew Bard’s cock back into his mouth, encircling the head with his tongue and teasing the foreskin as he moaned in pleasure.

"Ah!" Bard's gasp escaped him and he closed his eyes as Fili tongued the underside of his cock, sending tingling pleasure up through his pelvis. 

His hips tightened and he yearned to buck forward to fill that tight, pretty mouth. It was hard, so very hard, to restrain himself. The pleasure was intense, though different than what he had experienced before. But the years without touch seemed to make this tryst all the more exquisite, leaving him in a deeper state of craving with each passing second. Despite his growing passion and the mounting pleasure in his loins, he still had enough wits about him to hold off, to take it slow, and to cherish each intoxicating flick of Fili's tongue or stroke of those sultry lips.

"You’re good at that," he murmured, closing his fist in Fili's tresses.

Fili grasped Bard’s leather-clad ass with both hands to steady him. Bard’s cock, meanwhile, continued to grow and grow, impossibly fatter. The idea of being impaled upon it seemed a bit more daunting than it had moments before, but Fili continued to wring pleasure from the man. He could only hope Men took the same pleasures as Dwarves in this regard.

The moan that escaped Bard as he continued to thrust into Fili's mouth was soft, needy. The fit between Fili's lips was tight, and as Bard gave a deep thrust, he felt himself thump up against the back of Fili's throat, only partway in. At the sensation, Bard opened his eyes and peered down upon the dwarf, who looked up at him with shining eyes. Such beautiful blue eyes, filled with a sense of yearning that was both lustful and vulnerable.

"That is _wonderful_ ," he murmured, rubbing a thumb over Fili's furred cheek, pleasure coursing through him as Fili swallowed around his cock. "I would...ah... return the favor, you know."

Fili pulled off his knob--a long, wet, slow gesture--and smiled up at him, lips glistening, tantalizing. “I was rather hoping you’d take me. Right here on this floor.” 

"I would not wish to hurt you," Bard said, hesitantly. He let his eyes roam down Fili's body, concern mounting over the shortness of his frame. Dwarves were hardy folk, but Bard was not small in the ways that it mattered, and he feared that sheathing himself fully inside Fili would be more than the young dwarf could take.

Slipping his hands down the front of Fili's chest and letting his finger come to rest upon his waistband, he offered, "I could kiss you, give you pleasure as you have given me. Bring you fulfillment that way."

“You needn’t worry about hurting me,” Fili assured him, guiding Bard’s hand to rest over the bulge in his smallclothes. “We Dwarves come as impressively equipped as you Men, and I am familiar enough with being taken. Have a look, if you want.”

Through the fabric, Bard's could feel Fili's warmth and sizeable bulge. He raised his eyebrows, surprised. It was one thing to possess a large cock and quite another to be filled by one, but it occurred to Bard then that if dwarves were all so well equipped and if Fili had once had another lover… He let those thoughts trail off. Down that path lay nothing but sorrow. There would be time to grieve, but for now, they both needed affection, and closeness. Gentle intimacy, without the ghosts of the past.

"I do not know what we'll do to ease the entry," Bard said as he dropped his hand into the front of Fili's trousers.

“I don’t mind so much if it hurts a bit tonight,” Fili told him matter-of-factly. “Today was horrific. The distraction would be welcome.” 

Fili was voicing his guilt. So many had perished and he hadn’t; he also had been able to do nothing to save them from Smaug’s ravages. A little pain--especially if it led to a pleasurable outcome--would be all right.

Fili’s eyes scanned the dark tower room. “Ah, look.” His eyes settled on the broken lantern on the desk. He made his way towards it and picked it up and examined it. “There’s still a bit of lamp oil left, see? That will do.”

He unlaced his trousers as Bard joined him in the corner. There, Bard picked up the broken pieces of the lantern. Bard kept his eyes on Fili as he began to strip, and he shook a dribble of the oil onto his palm and closed his fist around his cock, hissing at the bitter cold until the friction of his hand upon his sensitive skin warmed the oil the until sensation was slick and pleasurable. All the while, he watched as Fili tugged himself out of his jacket -- Bard's jacket -- and dropped the fabric onto the floor and knelt down upon it, pulling himself free from the confines of his clothing as he looked up at Bard with wide and seeking eyes, almost eager, but without so much as a smile.

From Fili’s expression, Bard immediately realized that this was not to be lovemaking. This would be hard and brutal and needy, a tryst between two torn hearts who had seen too much of war and violence and who now needed each other as much as they needed peace.

"At least let me prepare you," Bard said, joining Fili on the jacket.

Gently, he placed his hands on Fili's hips and lowered himself until his mouth was just inches from Fili's groin. He parted his lips and freed Fili from his trousers, letting his eyes take in the sight of Fili's fully erect cock. Fili was thicker than most men and just as long, with a heavily veined shaft that rose proudly from a nest of thick golden curls.

_Impressive,_ Bard thought, more than a little intimidated by Fili’s length and astounding girth. It pained him to admit it, but he was glad not to be taking such thickness inside himself tonight.

"Turn over," Bard urged, helping Fili to turn and get down on all fours. As Fili settled down on his hands and knees, Bard took up one of Fili's hands and wrapped his fingers around his cock, urging Fili to stroke himself as Bard traced his oil-slicked fingers down Fili's exposed cleft.He watched, intrigued, as his fingertips found Fili's puckered opening. The muscles contracted ever so slightly at the touch, and he gently began to press a finger into Fili. 

"Tell me if I must stop," he said, panting softly, easing his digit into Fili's tight warmth.

Fili tensed, but only momentarily as if steeling himself for what was to come. His erection spoke volumes. He wanted this--wanted Bard’s thick, skillful fingers wriggling deeper and deeper with a pressure _just_ shy of true pain. He wanted to be taken. Fucked. But also, he wanted to be wanted, if only for a short while. 

Coming so close to death that afternoon had reminded them both of the frailty of life. 

“It’s perfect, Bard,” Fili encouraged him, rocking a bit against the intrusion. “Go deeper now. I want you there.” 

Feeling Fili relax around his forefinger, Bard unfurled his middle finger and pushed it up beside the first, pushing a shudder up through Fili's body that escaped his lips in a soft moan.

He wiggled his fingers inside, slicking Fili's passageway with the limited amount of oil. The hint of friction between his digits and Fili's skin promised a tight, rough fit, and he almost wanted to stop out of fear of causing damage, but his loins were aching and his body craved the touch, and Fili seemed to need this as much as Bard did.

With a sticky sound, Bard pulled his digits loose and positioned himself at Fili's opening, pressing his tip against the pulsing ring of muscles. He hesitated for a moment, holding back despite the urge to immerse himself in Fili.

"Do you want this?" He asked softly, leaning in over Fili's ear and whispering against the yellow locks. He closed his eyes and savored the feel of the long hair against his cheek, the warmth of his lover, the closeness of their bodies.

“My eagerness must make you think I do this often,” Fili turned his head and studied Bard, blue eyes and tone sharp. “I don’t. Accept me at my word and fuck me now. Who is to say when, or if, we might get this chance again? You will not hurt me, I assure you.”

Fili shivered against the chill when Bard moved away from where the warmth of him was blanketing his back. “Don’t make me beg,” Fili whispered. “It is not behavior becoming of a dwarf.”

Without a word, Bard placed a hand upon the small of Fili's back and used his second hand to guide the tip of his erection into Fili's opening. He closed his eyes and pushed in, sighing heavily as his length was swallowed up by Fili's passageway.

Fili didn’t hold back the surprised gasp of pain that followed. Despite the preparation, such as it was, Bard was big and Fili… well, it was a simple matter of anatomy. His fingers scrambled for purchase on Bard’s coat beneath him as he took long, deep breaths to relax. “Touch me,” he begged, reaching blindly for Bard’s hand.

Bard obliged, letting Fili guide his hand over his flank and across the downy fur of his abdomen, down towards his yearning erection. Rocking his hips, Bard closed a fist around Fili's cock and began to stroke, settling quickly into a steady rhythm that sent waves of pleasure coursing up through his loins.

"Ah..." Bard muttered, _Ditte..._

Her name came unbidden to his mind and he snapped his eyes open, forcing himself to look now upon the lover he was with. He was with Fili now, here in this desolate place, and   
though his heart had never fully healed from the loss of his beloved, in this moment he _wanted_ Fili, more than he had wanted anyone in years.

There was something beautiful about Fili like this--on his knees, mouth parted, cheeks flushed above the edges of his golden beard, braids rocking against his jaw in rhythm with the rocking of Bard’s hips.

Fili gasped each time Bard’s cock slid into him, deeper it seemed with each thrust. It still hurt a little. Maybe more than a little. But the small bit of pain in his arse was quickly eclipsed by the jolts of pleasure that coursed through him each time Bard’s cock brushed over that bundle of nerves inside him. Such pleasure! Pleasure he surely did not deserve. He let out a moan that morphed into a sob and his arms suddenly weakened; his forehead drooping to rest on the floor between his hands. Bard stopped moving, concerned.

“By the Valar, don’t stop,” he begged Bard, voice hoarse with pain-tinged lust. “N-need to see you. Turn me.”

Bard pulled out, gasping at the sting of cold on his erection, and he quickly hooked his hands upon Fili's waist. Flipping Fili over took a surprising amount of strength, for Fili was heavy and compact, but together they managed to rearrange themselves so that Fili lay on his back, with both man and dwarf scrambling to free Fili's legs from his trousers.

"I want you," Bard growled, hoisting Fili's thighs up around his waist. He lined his cock up and prodded at Fili's opening, but did not reenter until first glancing at Fili's eyes. "Are you ready?"

Fili nodded, aroused by Bard’s strength. “I-I just wanted to be sure of you,” he tried to explain. “That you’re here, with me. Do you understand?” 

Fili was desperate for the contact, the intimacy. Facing away from someone while being fucked--well, that wasn’t going to satisfy him. Bard’s dark eyes, locked on his own, smoldering as they were now. That was what he wanted.

“Now, Bard.” Fili licked his dry lips and swallowed audibly, “let’s finish this.”

"As you wish." Bard pushed his way back inside.

His groan was matched by Fili's high, soft whimper. He gripped Fili's hips and began to thrust, faster now than before, letting the pleasure mount. A slight shift in the angle of his hips changed the sensation, and as he continued to move, he could begin to feel the delight building upon itself, driving him towards completion.

Passionately, he pressed his mouth against Fili's throat and sucked hard as Fili gripped his shoulders, moaning quietly in his ear. He ran his hands down his lover's half-clothed body, fingers brushing against Fili's leaking cock, which he took up in his fist and began to stroke in time with his increasingly forceful movements.

Fili’s hand swept up Bard’s neck to tangle in Bard’s sweaty hair, then pulled his head back and angled his face up for a deep kiss. Fili’s eyes, now nearly consumed by his pupils, met Bard’s and clung before he threw back his head and gave himself over to the pleasure, body undulating with each thrust, whimpering, groaning each time Bard found that _spot._

Losing himself in the sensations, Bard fucked Fili hard against the floor, one hand freely roaming the dwarf's muscular body while the other hand stroked him towards completion. Each long pull seemed to bring Bard closer, for every slide of his hand over Fili's thick cock matched the sensuous slide of his own member into the clenching heat. Fili gripped him hard, and as Bard thrust into him, the pleasure seemed to spiral toward a blissful state of release. He was close, and getting closer.

Fili wanted to prolong the pleasure, but the stresses of the day, coupled with the fact that he hadn’t been physically intimate with anything besides his own hand for far too long, pushed him far too quickly towards climax.

“Going to…” he dug his heels into the small of Bard’s back in warning, “B-Bard…”

"Finish for me," Bard demanded, clutching Fili close as he pounded towards his own ending. As Fili arched his back beneath him, Bard let go of the last shred of his self control and surrendered to the sensation, letting the intense waves of his peak rip through him as he moaned out his climax.

Fili met him, thrust for thrust, their sweat slick bodies flushed with heat. The final time Bard’s cock brushed that bundle of nerves, sparks danced across his vision and his fingernails dug into the tender skin of Bard’s shoulders. When Fili came, he clamped down tight on Bard’s manhood and softly cried out his name.

They finished together, with Fili wringing Bard's orgasm out until he was spent, and as Bard pulled out and collapsed upon Fili’s chest, he closed his eyes and reveled in the afterglow, inhaling the scent of their coupling and the musk of their desperate passions. 

How much he had needed this. How good it was, to be held, even if for only a short time, even with knowing that the bliss of this moment would inevitably fade. But for now, he was here, still in the embrace of a handsome dwarvish prince and still basking in the sensations. 

At long last, he finally smiled, and he opened his eyes, giving Fili a lazy, sidelong glance.

"That was... needed. And wonderful."

Fili nodded, “Aye.” He reached over and caressed Bard’s cheek. 

Bard leaned into the touch. In the tender brush of Fili's fingertips, he could feel the callouses from many years of swordsmanship and work at the forge. 

“Thank you,” Fili said. “I know it’s just a bandage for wounds we’re both healing from, but it couldn’t have come at a better time. I’m glad it was you, Bard. Bowman. Slayer of Smaug.” He smiled softly and leaned in to lay a soft kiss to Bard’s lips.

"Slayer of Smaug," Bard repeated, testing the name and finding that he liked the sound of it, but more from the lips of another than his own. "How good, that he is dead. But we are far from finished with this tale, I think.” He rolled off Fili and fell against his coat, leaving his hand resting upon Fili’s thigh. “I am glad that we had this moment. Even if we never have another chance."

“I feel certain,” Fili yawned, laying his head on Bard’s chest, “that I wouldn’t mind another chance.” At last, Fili felt, after the long days of uncertainty and carnage at Lake-town, he might finally be able to get some rest.

Bard rested for a period of time with Fili against him as he stared up at the ceiling. The exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him, and he closed his eyes as he brushed a hand over Fili's hair, taking comfort in the dwarf's closeness for a moment before he leaned his head to kiss Fili upon the forehead. He smiled faintly, ruefully, as Fili stirred a little.

"When the time comes," Bard promised, "I will see you and your brother and your companions returned to your homeland. Though I should hope you would return to Esgaroth from time to time, to see a lonely bowman, who will forever be your friend."

“Now that we’ve...” 

As Fili trailed off, Bard could feel the flush creep up Fili’s chest to his face as he spoke. 

“Well…” Fili said, “I doubt I’ll be able to avoid you for long. But we should be getting back to the others. My brother… We should be with them, in case-- ” Fili let the thought drop. “They may need us.”

"Yes," Bard said, though a part of him was sad to see this moment end. Slowly, he pulled himself up from where he rested upon Fili. Once he was upright he relaced his trousers and extended a hand to Fili, who took it and let Bard help him to his feet.

Fili smiled gratefully and rearranged his own clothing, making himself as presentable as possible. “I won’t forget this night, Bard. Or how you made me feel.”

The smile that had found itself on Bard’s features refused to leave him as they made their way back down the ladder and back to the gatehouse, side by side. He watched as Fili rejoined his brother near the hearth, and he remained in the shadows, watching Fili as he whispered something to the elvish woman. She gave him a nod and withdrew, leaving Fili at his sleeping brother’s side. As he lay down beside Kili, and Bard crossed the room to join his resting children, Fili gave the tired bowman a soft smile. They were both where they needed to be.

\- - - - - 

Bard stood surrounded by elves, dwarves, and his fellow men in the halls of Erebor, watching as the last King Under the Mountain was laid in his stony tomb. To his left and his right, his nephews were laid to rest. Upon Fili’s motionless face, which still bore the fairness of youth and the nobility of his lineage, Bard’s gaze lingered, for he knew that those beautiful blue eyes were closed forever.

As the funeral progressed, Bard felt as if he were dreaming some numb and sorrowful dream, watching the past play out before him, knowing now that the brief time shared between himself and that good, young dwarf would culminate in this end. He wondered, if only briefly, if there had been something he could have done to change this outcome. But after returning Fili and his company to Erebor, it had become apparent that nothing Bard could have said or done would have altered Fili’s fate.

They never did meet again after that early morning on the edge of the Long Lake, for things had so quickly escalated from conflict to all-out war. And it had been in Fili’s stars to die in that ill-fated battle, side-by-side with his brother, defending his uncle to their dying breaths. Bard had no doubt that Fili would have taken every arrow, every blow, intended for his kin, and in that, Fili had died a hero. Now, his extended kin gave him the burial of a hero, laid forever in a tomb of stone.

When at last, the funeral drew to a close, and the dwarves sealed the tombs of the last branches of the Line of Durin, Bard lingered as his fellow men began to depart. He stayed until he was alone, and placed the Arkenstone upon Thorin’s tomb, but he left his eyes upon Fili’s grave, for it was Fili who should have been king, and only Fili who could have changed the course of this sad story.

But now, Fili was dead, and with him, so too was a piece of Bard. The lonely part, the lovelorn part. And when he finally left the funeral hall, he left that broken part of himself behind in Fili’s keeping.


End file.
